Burn
by xxForgotten
Summary: Years after the war.. Fire meets ice. But will it finally melt this time? H/D slash.
1. Silk

**Title:** Burn

**Author:** xxForgotten

**Pairing(s):** HP/DM

**Setting:** Post-war, magical community. Generally ignores OoTP and all those onwards, but may contain mentioning:)

**Warning(s):** Slash. Also may contain spoilers.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything that you might recognize... especially the characters:( but I'd be ever so happy if someone gave them to me as a birthday present:)

**Summary:** Years after the war.. Fire meets ice. But will it finally melt this time?

A/N: My first fanfic! Please be nice:) R&R!

Chapter 1: Silk

She smiled at him and stood up, with a smile that would have melted the hearts of thousands and a grace that would have done the goddess of beauty herself proud. A lone nightingale sung, chords echoing in his empty heart. The faint sound of an enchanted piano reached his ears and he closed his eyes. He quickly opened them, however when her familiar scent suddenly became a bit too close for comfort. She breathed down his neck, "Watch me," and his whole world stood still.

She walked a distance, only to face him with a sweet smile and a feathery light, blown kiss. Her long, sleek brown hair hung low on her back, and her her expensive, black tailored gown was carefully made, fitting her just perfectly, showing off her body at just the right places and letting just the right amount of porcelain skin show from her back. She was what they all said was perfection, coming from a respectable family, having the elegance, otherworldly beauty and courteousness fit for a Malfoy's wife. Together, they would produce aristocratic little Malfoys.

Draco gave a small smile and looked at her. She returned the smile, and her dark eyes sparkled with happiness.

Her eyes. They were turquoise seas that numerous men longed to drown in. But not Draco. For him, she was never good enough. Her hair wasn't dark enough, her eyes not the right shade of green. But he was merely a pawn in his father's game, after Voldemort's, a tool that would produce more pawns, more pieces in his little chess game, a servant that provided entertainment. The dreams still haunted him.

* * *

She closed her eyes and raised slender arms, nodding slightly to the soft music, then gradually starting to turn and twirl in languid movements. A slight wind blew then, whispering in the empty hallways of Malfoy Manor and blowing out most of the candles lighting them. The soft moonlight illuminated her features, casting shadows over her cheeks. Draco pulled his robe tighter around his shoulders, shivering slightly but made no move to close the windows. The night breeze was pleasant. He shifted his glance towards her again.

She danced around the small study, the wind lifting her hair. Folds of soft black fabric lifted and fell about her slight form, twirling and spinning with her. The obsidian silk.. oh it felt so familiar. How he longed to reach out and touch it.. to hold on and never let go again... He took a deep, shuddering breath.. and it was then that the memories came flooding back, the feelings that he had opted to ignore, the passion that had been pushed back for just a bit too long. His vision swam and darkened, and he had grip the armrest of a nearby couch to sit down and gain his balance. She seemed not to notice, too lost in the music.

First year. Hogwarts.

"I think I can tell the wrong sort for myself, thanks..."

The rejection. The hurt. The anger. The tormenting and verbal abusing for years on end. Then fourth year. The fear and the realization. The obsession and the distancing. The hidden desire and the masks. The torturing from his father and the dark lord in the summer. The... the raping. The sleepless nights that he had to cast silencing spells on himself to avoid anyone else to hear his screams of pain, agony and desire. The nights where he would wake up with sore throats and had to pay regular visits to Madame Pomfrey for cures to heal his raw throat. The times he had to attend multiple therapy sessions just to be able to live each day, just to hold on to whatever he had left. The sideglances. The empty hope that he would find himself in strong, comforting arms, in which he would be able to find peace, solace.

And finally, the battle. The victory. And the letting go.

The moment he had looked into the steely green eyes and found unwavering determination and triumph, he had let go of the tiny burning hope in him, the flame that had grown smaller and smaller over the years. Harry had gone on with his life, and Draco had stayed a while in Azkaban instead, for the name of being one of Voldemort's allies.

It was true, his father had been sentenced to life in azkaban, but his mother still had control over him. He had been released after two years, a comparatively shorter sentence than the others, but it was still very much long enough, as they had never found evidence of his associations with the fallen Voldemort. And they wouldn't either. Draco had refused all their orders, even the dark mark.. and had paid heavily for them too. But his reasons for defying his father were gone; what did he have to live for? His mother, who he doubted even remembered his name sometimes nowadays? His father, who had tortured him as heartlessly as some other muggle? Harry... Harry who would never know how he felt, who would probably have forgotten his existence already? His Slytherin friends, who were currently all spending time in prison, spare for a few?

Draco sighed. He had never truly seen how little he had. As a child he had been raised to a single goal: power, wealth, fame. Now, at 22, he had no more desire to require those things. He had more than enough money to last himself a lifetime, and he had never craved for any of them anyway. Looking up, his female companion was still dancing.

* * *

A/N: Short chapter, I know... I'll try to make the next longer:)


	2. Freed

**Title: **Burn

**Author:** xxForgotten

**Pairing(s):** HP/DM

**Setting:** Post-war, magical community. Generally ignores OoTP and all those onwards, but may contain mentioning:)

**Warning(s):** Slash. Also may contain spoilers.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything that you might recognize... especially the characters:( but I'd be ever so happy if someone gave them to me as a birthday present:)

**Summary:** Years after the war... fire meets ice. But will it finally melt this time?

**A/N:** Yay second chapter. I won't be updating for a while after this though, exams are coming and I have to study:( A big thank you to MissingEden, my first reviewer! R&R:)

Chapter 2: Freed

Roaming tongues. Writhing bodies. Indecipherable sweet mutters. Sweat. Moans. And.. tears.

"Draco..?"

"I'm sorry..."

And that was all he remembered before he passed out.

He opened his eyes and saw green. For a moment.. just for a fraction of a second he had thought...? No, it was just her emerald encrusted ring. He reached up and felt moisture. And for the millionth time, he felt anger towards himself. For being so weak. Malfoys were never weak. He had been raised to know that emotions were a weakness, to know that love was a coward's game. And here he was, crying over something that he would never have, something stupid and petty that he should have given up years ago.

He tried to get up, but then found that he was trapped. He looked down and found her body sprawled against his. He sighed. Then he gently eased her off and went to the bathroom. Looking into the mirror, he found a stranger. A stranger who shared his stormy gray eyes, platinum blonde hair and carefully chiseled features. But this stranger possessed nothing but just that. A mask of perfection, nothing more. Another wave of fury passed through Draco as he took in the person in the mirror and identified him as himself. He closed his eyes tightly and staggered out with labored breathing. He leaned against the wall and let his tears fall freely, hating himself more and more by the second. Scribbling down a note to her, he changed, grabbed his cloak and swept out, leaving nothing but a crisp "crack" in the silence of the night as he disapparated.

* * *

Considering the state of mind that Draco was in, he was lucky to not have splinched himself. Somehow he ended up in a small wizarding town close to the sea, its whereabouts that Draco knew nothing of. Oh well. He was here anyway. He could apparate back anytime. But he decided on taking a walk by the sea to calm his nerves and furiously beating heart. Taking a deep breath and inhaling the salty scent of the ocean, he began to relax. As a child he had always loved the ocean. Its waves would crash against him, cleansing him, washing away his tears. The clear blue would engulf him, setting him free. Draco sighed again as a memory of his very much younger self splashing in the waters with a dazzling smile surfaced as if on command.

He sat down and idly traced patterns in the fine sand, all the time watching the black shadow of a bird soaring over the sea. As it disappeared, he looked down again and found the form of a lightning bolt in the sand beside him, where his hand had just been. He groaned and mentally slapped himself. He hadn't seen Harry in years, and he had gotten on fine. Why now?

He continued his train of thoughts as he stared unseeingly at the sea. Seconds passed. Minutes passed. Hours passed, as the boy sat alone with no one, nothing more than the wind whispering through leaves and grass, the gentle waves of the sea, the unforgiving darkness, a brilliantly silver moon and the silence as company.

Dawn came soon enough, and Draco stood up, stretched his cramped muscles and looked towards the horizon. A red sun was rising, staining the skies and the clouds. And Draco smiled under a red and golden sky.

_Gryffindor colours._

Then, without second thought, he tore off his outer robes and dashed into the water. It was cool, yet not as such one would call cold or freezing. It was pleasant. And for the first time in years, he felt free. He let out a hoarse whoop, not really caring who heard him. His shirt was soaked by now, but he could care less. As the sky grew lighter, so did his heart. He flung himself into the waves, grinning at the empty beach as he relived his three-year old trip to the beach. Sure, it wasn't the same one. But all he knew was the same freedom. And his wings, that had been crushed and bound by the Malfoy restrictions, limitations and expectations spread to meet the rising sun once again. Yet no one saw him, the boy in the glory of the morning.

Draco was part-Veela, and that gave him a pair of magnificent mercury wings that would unfold for him at free will. Being only part-veela, he had no need to go into a mating season every year, and he did not have the strange allure that most Veela would possess.

His wings now, however caught the light and from a distance he would have appeared to have been glowing.

And the other boy watching him from a distance saw exactly that. Angel, was the only word that sprang to mind.

* * *

It was full daylight when Draco staggered back again, drenched but happy. He collapsed on the sand and lay on his back, watching the clouds pass by in a blue sky. Birds chirped and the sky fused with the sea in the distance. He couldn't remember the world being so in colour since his fourth birthday. And since he was just a child then and due to the continuous tortures in his later years at Hogwarts, the memories were often distorted and incomplete. And now, he was all to himself, to enjoy this new, colourful universe that he had found. So lost in his fantasy and newfound joy, he never noticed the other boy.

All until Draco disapparated, turning around and catching a glimpse of brilliant emerald.

* * *

A/N: Not exactly longer but well I thought I could cut this down a bit and maybe get another chapter up before the exams:) I know this chapter was kinda weird.. oh well.


	3. Dreams And Secrets

**Title: **Burn

**Author:** xxForgotten

**Pairing(s):** HP/DM

**Setting:** Post-war, magical community. Generally ignores OoTP and all those onwards, but may contain mentioning:)

**Warning(s): **Slash. Also may contain spoilers.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything that you might recognize... especially the characters:( but I'd be ever so happy if someone gave them to me as a birthday present:)

**Summary:** Years after the war.. Fire meets ice. But will it finally melt this time?

**A/N:** Yay I'm back:)

Chapter 3: Dreams And Secrets

Grey eyes opened.

Green eyes opened.

And both lay, chests heaving, hearts further apart than mere cities.

Eventually Draco got up and headed for the bathroom for a shower. His brain refused to take full register of what he had seen, and he was glad enough for that. For now... he needed a break from the heartaching secret inside him that was Harry Potter. Fumbling slightly with his buttons, he dressed and headed downstairs.

The manor was deserted. Well, at least the places he wandered through were. One just couldn't tell, with the manor's huge scale. And there were always house elves lurking somewhere, working their heads off trying to make everything perfect. Draco smiled a bit at that. House elves were such helpful creatures.

Draco strolled into the huge, homey library and lifted a worn book with a locket off one of its many shelves. Blowing off the dust, he sank into a velvet couch and started reading.

When she dropped past a bit later that morning, he was asleep.

She bent down and gently eased the book out of his pale hands and studied it, flipping through a few pages. It was his diary. She touched it briefly, an unreadable expression ghosting over her delicate features. Then she put it back into his hands ever so lightly, planting a feather light kiss on his forehead. He never stirred.

* * *

_"Draco..."_

Draco frowned as he took in his surroundings. He supposed he was in some kind of hospital room... the pure white walls could only indicate so. But then why was he here? And.. why did that voice sound so painstakingly familiar... was he dreaming? He pinched himself. It didn't hurt. He breathed a sigh of relief. But then he couldn't feel anything either.

_"Draco..."_

He broke out in a cold sweat.

"Who are you??"

_"Who do you think I am, Draco?"_

Oh god. Please, no. No.

The voice laughed. Then there was silence.

_"I need your help, Draco."_

The walls around him morphed and changed, and Draco found himself staring at a rich gold tapestry on a wall. Turning, he found that he was no longer in the hospital ward, but in a rather grand study of some sort. Of course, it wasn't as grand as his manor, Draco thought with a wistful half-smirk.

Then something caught his eye.

And he stared at it.

And his jaw dropped.

A figure lay on the four poster bed, under the silken sheets, chest hardly moving at all. Jet black wild hair stuck out from a corner.

_"Draco..."_

The voice. Again. But much nearer this time.

_"Do you see why I need your help, Draco?"_

And with that, a figure shimmered out of mid-air. A figure with wild black hair and emerald eyes. Draco's breath caught in his throat. But.. but it couldn't be him. It wasn't him. This.. person was obviously a lot younger and shorter. He couldn't be more than 6, but his actions and the way he talked made Draco doubt that. His eyes were far more innocent, unlike Harry's eyes which held the soul of a person who had seen too much pain. But.. who was he? Who was the person on the bed? Why did they both look so much like Harry? And.. what did this have to do with him?

Draco cautiously edged his way towards the bed. Then, gingerly reaching towards the sheet covering the body... he held his breath. then he touched it, grabbed it and pulled it off.

"Harry!!" he screamed. No doubt this was him. The scar his own father had cast on him stood out harshly on his deathly pale arm.

_"Yes,"_ the person replied.

"What happened to him? What.. how.. why... who are you??"

The person smirked. _Smirked._ Draco faintly recalled a part of his brain being appalled at the thought of seeing Harry smirking. Or rather, Harry's features smirking. He was pretty damn sure this wasn't Harry by now.

_"Voldemort. That's what happened. No one knows how. But as for who I am..."_

He looked at Draco, his emerald eyes piercingly intense.

"You are...?"

_"Yes."_

Numb shock was all Draco felt as shards of ice pierced his veins and his frozen heart, tearing through his fragile hope, ripping down all that was left of him. And Draco Malfoy, ex Slytherin ice prince, slowly died inside.

_Harry had a son._

He felt the world morph around him and reality slip out of his grasp. But he didn't care. Because all that he had ever lived for had just be snatched away from him. And nothing much mattered anymore.

* * *

Draco awoke again later that day to torrential rain. She had long gone by then. He called for a house elf to get him a cup of tea and buried his head in his hands. But yet the images taunted him, swimming just behind his eyelids, lingering, torturing him. The nearly lifeless Harry, his innocently beautiful son. And then there still was the obvious question that pained Draco no end. _Who was the mother, if all this was real?_

The dreams kept coming, and everytime it was the same. And Draco would talk to Harry's son, growing increasingly sure that all this was truly happening. But James, Harry's son rarely talked, and when he did, he did so mostly in riddles. Draco, though determined to help Harry and find out the truth, still had no idea where they really were. Asking James to no avail and growing frustrated, he headed back to the one place he thought he'd never see again to seek help and advice.

Hogwarts.


	4. Love, Hate, and Everything Forgotten

**Title:** Burn

**Author:** xxForgotten

**Pairing(s): **HP/DM

**Setting:** Post-war, magical community. Generally ignores OoTP and all those onwards, but may contain mentioning:)

**Warning(s): **Slash. Also may contain spoilers.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything that you might recognize... especially the characters:( but I'd be ever so happy if someone gave them to me as a birthday present:)

**Summary:** Years after the war... fire meets ice. But will it finally melt this time?

A/N: Thanks for the reviews:) I luff y'all for them xD

Chapter 4: Love, Hate, and Everything Forgotten

Students and portraits paused to stare at him as Draco made his way through the packed halls of Hogwarts. Everything seemed more or less as he had remembered. Except for the way everything looked so much more worn and that everyone was staring. Yeah, sure, they had stared back in the days, but that had been due to his looks. Now it was because of his resemblance to his father. His cowardly, morbid father who only knew to follow the maniac.

Tears of anger blurred his eyes, yet he refused to let them fall. Breathing deeply, he decided instead to take a detour to the bathroom.

He splashed water onto his face, tears finally sliding down and mingling with the water, dripping down in thin, crystalline tracks. He closed his eyes as he came up, refusing to look at his reflection in the mirror.

* * *

Snape was waiting for him when he arrived at the dungeons. He hadn't seen his godfather since the war, and that time nearly everyone had looked the same: Blood covered, with heaving chests and eyes narrowed in determination. But now, as his godfather turned in his chair to look at him, he finally realized exactly _how much_ had changed.

Severus's greasy black hair had turned into greasy gray-streaked hair. There were a few scars on his hands and face that Draco swore hadn't been there before. New lines crossed his forehead and there was a sincerity that hid beneath the mask of the cold, evil potions master. And, as Severus stood up, Draco noted a limp in his stride. The cost of joining the light.

"Sev."

"Draco."

The tension abruptly vaporized as Severus took a shaky laugh. Draco, as if snapping out of a trance, rushed forward and hugged his godfather so tight neither could breathe. Then breaking apart, laughing, Draco sank into a comfy looking armchair and Snape poured them both some black coffee, before sitting down in an armchair facing Draco's.

"So.. what brings you back after so long?"

Draco noticed a hint of sarcasm in his words and a pang of sheepish guilt hit him.

"Sev.. I.. It's.. "

"It's Potter."

Shell-shocked, all Draco could do was nod dumbly.

"What.. how... you.."

Severus raised an eyebrow at his godson's stuttering. He'd known the boy since the day he was born, and for all he knew, Draco Malfoy never stuttered. Or blushed, either.

Severus smirked.

Draco narrowed his eyes.

"Sev!"

"...Hm?"

Severus looked like a boy who had just stolen a cookie unnoticed. He looked so ridiculous that, in fact, both of them doubled up again and leaned back in their armchairs, reminiscing. How many evenings had they spent in this exact study, doing nothing more than just talking about every random thing in their lives? Draco couldn't believe he had forgotten about all of this. He'd been blind to everything but his rage for his father and bloody old Tom Riddle.

Severus spoke again, after both of them had calmed down.

"Tell me about it."

And so Draco told him about everything. The dreams, the obsession, everything.

"I always knew you had a thing for Potter."

Draco sighed. Had he been that transparent, or could his godfather read minds? Both of the two possibilities didn't settle well with his stomach.

"Don't worry, I didn't tell anyone."

Oh. The latter then. Draco meeped internally.

"Why so tense? It's not like I can read minds, you know."

A louder meep. Yeah, righto. But then.. had he _really_ been that transparent?

Draco never said another word, too occupied by his emotional turmoil. Snape sighed and stood up, gesturing to the door to a dazed Draco.

"Huh?"

"To the headmaster's office."

Draco nodded and stood up shakily, then followed his godfather out.

* * *

When they got to Dumbledore's office, the Hogwarts headmaster was talking to someone in the fire. However as soon as they entered, he uttered a few urgent words to the person (whom Dumbledore's body obscured from view) and the person disappeared.

"Ah, Severus and Mr Malfoy."

The unnerving twinkling was still in his eyes, and even though he looked older and wiser than ever, to Draco, he was still the old bat with the all-knowing gaze that annoyed him, from the good old days. His periwinkle blue eyes were clearer than ever, which only annoyed Draco more. Hmph. But still, from what he'd learned about him during the past few years, Dumbledore might be an old bat, but he was a kind one, and he'd helped Draco through a lot.

Meanwhile, behind the kind twinkling eyes, Dumbledore was a painting of sorrow. He knew what Draco had gone through, and he blamed himself for not being able to protect the boy more. He knew that, behind the coldness, the exquisite looks and the finery, Draco was a lonely boy. Lonely and misunderstood. It wasn't fair for such a beautiful, young boy to have to got through so much pain.

Dumbledore gave a sad smile and conjured two armchairs for both of them. Then he drew his palms together and spoke.

"So.. Mr Malfoy. I think it'd be better if you told me all that you know first,"

* * *

Draco stood at the window, watching as droplets of rain slid down on the other side of the glass. Winter was coming. He could feel it. But what difference did it make? His heart would still be-- always be-- as frozen as ever. Dumbledore had arranged for him to stay at Hogwarts for the meantime, as he would have more safety and warmer company. He had given Draco his old room in which he had stayed in during his Head Boy days.

He turned away and flopped onto the familiar bed, staring up at the bed canopy. How many days he had spent here, planning on revenge and thinking about his secret love. It was ironic, that love and hate were the only things that mattered to him in his life.

He ran a hand through his sleek blond hair and his eyelids started to droop. It had been a long day and frustrating day after all. Hopefully tomorrow would be better.

And as he started to slip into oblivion... he recalled thinking how blissful it would be if maybe, maybe.. tomorrow wouldn't find him.

* * *

A/N: Hopefully I'll be updating a lot more frequently now that the holidays are here:) Once again, thanks! Review review review:)

P.S. I don't really like the title I set for this chapter.. but I couldn't think of another one. Any suggestions?


	5. Possibilities

**Title: **Burn

**Author:** xxForgotten

**Pairing(s):** HP/DM

**Setting:** Post-war, magical community. Generally ignores OoTP and all those onwards, but may contain mentioning:)

**Warning(s):** Slash. Also may contain spoilers.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything that you might recognize... especially the characters:( but I'd be ever so happy if someone gave them to me as a birthday present:)

**Summary:** Years after the war... fire meets ice. But will it finally melt this time?

**A/N: **Lol lol no worries.. more Draco/ Harry soon! Even I'm getting a bit impatient :)**  
**

Chapter 5: Possibilities

Tiny ripples on the surface of the water turned from swirling gray to the clearest blues as the sun rose, its rays reaching each crack and corner, each nook and cranny.

Soft light flooded from the windows into Draco's room, seeping through the curtains and casting shadows on his face. Pale eyelashes rested on his cheeks lightly, and his breathing was relaxed. He was a snuggler, so he lay curled under the sheets, hugging a pillow tightly. Emerald orbs filled with tears as they gazed at him, and cold fingers trailed down his face softly.

_"Draco..."_

The ghost of a voice, rusty with disuse, thick with regret.

* * *

Draco shot up, eyes wide and heart racing. He tore open the blinds of his four-poster... to an empty room. It was afternoon by then, but the blinding sun did little to warm the day.. let alone Draco's heart. It was going to be one long winter... Long and lonely.

Draco shivered.

_Harry.. Where are you.._

Brushing all thoughts aside, he threw on a shirt and a coat and headed outside for a breath of fresh air. Unwittingly heading to the lake, he regretted having worn so little. It was getting chilly, after all. He settled for a spot under a tree not too far from the waters. Randomly picking up a rock, he stood up and chucked it as far as he could into the lake, grinning as a rather large tentacle rose from the murky depths in protest. He'd always liked the giant squid. At least it didn't have claws.

Another gust of wind blew by, and he sat down again, snuggling deeper into his cloak, burying his face into his knees and wrapping his arms around himself. Albeit the cold, something told him not to leave yet, and for the moment he intended to trust that little something.

Above, the sky was an icy blue. The trees' branches were becoming bare, the flowers faded. Soon, it would be winter. The lake might freeze over. Snow would fall, and Christmas would come. Decorations would go up, presents would be sent in by loving parents. Feasts and parties would be held in common rooms and dormitories. The season of cheer would be here.

To be honest, he actually looked forward to Christmas. Or rather, to be precise, he looked forward to a Christmas spent someplace other than in the manor. He'd spent so much time confined.. _prisoned_ in there, he knew every detail of the dungeons' walls. He'd been chained there even more than he'd been in his own rooms. It stunk of evil, dark magic and blood...

"Ah, Mr Malfoy. I should hope I am not intruding on a personal moment."

"Not at all, Professor Dumbledore. I was simply.. wandering." Draco stood up quickly in surprise and regarded the headmaster with a calm gaze and a slight nod.

"Excellent. I was merely dropping by to ask if you'd like a cup of tea later in the afternoon. We do have some important matters to discuss."

"Sure, professor. At your office..?"

"Yes, that would be preferable."

"Okay then."

"Oh, and one more thing?"

"Yes?"

"Call me Albus, will you?"

The headmaster smiled and turned, making his way back to the castle, leaving an empty feeling of slight annoyance at the pit of Draco's stomach. How on earth had he known he was here...? And besides, the headmaster's all- knowing twinkling really did drive him nuts. Always.

Leaning against the tree, Draco yawned and stared out at the lake. The scenery calmed him, but he really didn't like having nothing to do. He normally would have gone to find Severus, but he had lessons. Hopefully not with the Gryffindors and Slytherins. Even though the inter- house rivalry had quietened down since the war, it was still present, barely contained in the biting remarks and squabbling. To be honest, he didn't care much about the Slytherin versus Gryffindor rivalry anymore. He'd prided himself in being a Slytherin, hung out with his fellow house cronies, and look where it had got him. Almost killed and yearning for the one thing he'd never have.

But well whatever. He had faith in himself and in Harry, unwavering faith that allowed him to believe in a better day.

Stretching, Draco headed inside. He had a feeling that what Dumbledore wanted to see him about would be terribly stressing. He might as well get some rest and some peace before that.

* * *

Upon returning to his room, Draco was greeted with a warm meal and a merry fire burning in the hearth. Apparently the house elves had already been here. Impressive. He hopped onto the window seat that and settled down, watching students and teachers passing below, clutching stacks of books and huddled in packs trying to avoid the chill. Then he spotted a not-so-bushy head of brown hair and his stomach gave a twist.

Granger.

He hadn't given much thought about anyone after the war. To be frank, he'd completely forgotten about Granger and the Weasleys, much less known if they were still alive. She was probably teaching here now, considering her attire and the students' reactions. He decided to ask the headmaster with that matter in the afternoon too.

But he didn't have to.

* * *

"Mr Malfoy! Exactly on time, I can see. Have a seat! Lemon drop?"

Draco declined and almost rolled his eyes at Dumbledore's enthusiasm, but stiffened as he saw Granger standing to the side.

"Granger."

She opened her mouth to say something, but then quickly shut it and settled with a nod and a polite "Malfoy."

Dumbledore gestured warmly to Granger for her to have a seat too, and both sat stiffly in their armchairs, waiting for the headmaster to speak.

"Mr Malfoy, as you can see, Mrs Weasley here is now one of our teachers. As for why I gathered you two here today..."

Draco raised an eyebrow at Granger... well, Weasley. It wasn't a surprise- Granger and Weasley.. Ronald Weasley, he clarified- had been pretty smitten since their sixth year.

Hermione blushed as Albus deliberately accented her surname. He had been one of their guests at their wedding.

"... Draco, you voiced your concerns over Mr Potter yesterday, so I thought it best to consult Hermione here."

"Albus? Is something wrong with Harry?" Hermione was caught off guard, and seemed genuinely worried.

Draco, on the other hand, stared into space as they conversed, Albus telling Hermione about what Draco had told him yesterday. He really wasn't comfortable with the situation. Talking to the headmaster was hard enough, but to discuss this with one of his long time enemies wasn't exactly tempting.

To tell the truth, he never hated Hermione Granger. True, he disliked her blood and envied her grades, her closeness to Harry. But he'd been brainwashed from the day he was born, how was he to know? He had never truly hated anyone... that is, until now. And he had to admit that Gra... Weasley had become quite attractive over the years. Not in that way, of course. Harry was the only one he had- and would love...

"Mr Malfoy?"

Draco was dragged from his internal ranting to reality at Dumbledore's voice. The headmaster was looking at him intently, periwinkle blue eyes twinkling behind half moon spectacles_. Dammit._

Draco plastered a politely blank expression over his half amused, half annoyed one and looked just as evenly back. Inside, however, he was hopping. He just never got how the headmaster could sit back, offer sweets and sip tea while lives were in danger. Which was exactly what he was doing right now when Harry. Was. Missing! Grrr.

"Yes?"

"I was wondering if you have any inkling of where Harry and James were while you saw them,"

"No.. I did not. There weren't any windows as far as I was concerned, and I never wandered far enough to get out before I woke."

"Ahh." The old man clapsed his hands together and rested his chin on them, eyes closed.

"Albus? Do you have any information?" The name sounded weird on his lips.

"Alas, I do not. I have, however, been in contact with James."

That came as a surprise to both Draco and Hermione.

"Then why didn't you ask him? Why didn't you tell me?"

"I'm sorry, my boy.. but I have made far less progress with James than you have. The boy is distant and wary with me. He speaks even less than he does with you. I haven't even been to the room you described, James only communicates with me via the fireplace whenever he likes."

Draco's shoulders sagged.

"What does that mean, headmaster?"

It was more of a query for confirmation than an open question.

"Yes, Draco. You are the only one who can help Harry. I will try my best to help, but I doubt my attempts will be useful at all."

Draco sighed. Hermione, who had been silent for so long, finally spoke up quietly. She sounded frightened.

"Headmaster.. but I don't understand.. if they need our help so desperately, then why is James so secretive of their location? He is certainly aware that we need to know their whereabouts to help them.."

"That is too one of the things I have been puzzling about lately. My guess is that either he simply does not know, or are still guarded against us for some reason.." He sighed. "This is also partly my fault. Had I not meddled, he might have told Draco- the only one he trusts- already."

"But why Malfoy?" Her tone was neutral.. but Draco saw hurt written in her face. "And.. couldn't it be possible that they were there by force, forbidden to reveal their location?"

"I have given that much thought, but since Voldemort has been defeated, I see no one who would have that desire to hurt Harry." The first question was deliberately pushed aside and ignored.

Draco paled. What if...?

"Albus.. what if it was Lucius? Or Narcissa?" He refused to address them as his parents.

"Lucius is safe behind bars, I assure you.. and Narcissa.. well. I should think she wouldn't do such a thing without help. All possible allies are currently in Azkaban with Lucius, so I see no way anyone could have done this."

"Oh."

He wasn't convinced.

**A/N:** Um yeah this chapter sucks. Ah well. I'm really really sorry for that. I might rewrite this chapter sometime soon :) Heh I've been in a great mood these few days for no reason. Maybe that's why this chap sucks. Hm.


	6. Waiting

Title: Burn

Author: xxForgotten

Pairing(s): HP/DM

Setting: Post-war, magical community. Ignores OoTP and all those onwards:)

Warning(s): Slash. Also may contain spoilers.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything that you might recognize... especially the characters:( but I'd be ever so happy if someone gave them to me as a birthday present:)

Summary: Years after the war... Fire meets ice. But will it finally melt this time?

A/N: Okay here we are. Plans for rewriting Chapter 5 have been cancelled, and I have an issue that I really hope there'll be some response to.. and that's the um who's top- who's bottom question. lolz. Anyway R&R, and tell me what you guys want :)

Chapter 6: Waiting

Weeks later, Draco found himself wandering again.

Wandering through the quieter halls of Hogwarts, Tracing the faint, badly concealed marks of undying love couples had left in the stone walls. Wandering around the castle grounds, marveling at how it seemed like yesterday when he had trod these same paths, thinking up insults to hurl half-heartedly at the trio.

Somehow, his feet found his way to a small tower that he had never been to before. It had a breathtaking view, rising high against the ancient, worn buildings. overlooking the lake and a rose garden with its roses in full bloom despite the weather. Spells, he supposed. With all the students and teachers either in class or busying off somewhere, he figured that Hogwarts could really be a beautiful place. And he wondered how it would be like if Lucius had sent him off to Durmstrang. If he'd never met Harry. No, he definitely wouldn't be the same. Harry had made him into a better person.

Leaning against the cold granite, he wrapped his cloak tighter around himself as a gust of wind blew past, sweeping his blonde fringe off his face. He supposed he should be more nervous- Harry was missing, after all. Albus's calm intake on things must be rubbing off on him. Hmph. But it wasn't his fault that Harry was there, lurking behind his eyelids, smiling at him everytime he closed his eyes. It made him feel like he was safe, like he was there with him. So yeah. He really couldn't be blamed.

But things had gotten no further. James hadn't appeared in his dreams... or anywhere else in fact. Hermione was fretting around, eyebrows joined, pacing around and around at every private meeting. Dumbledore wore that politely, smilingly resigned look that Draco was oh so used to. He wore it whenever there was a problem that he could do nothing about. A problem like this one. He knew that this fact pained Albus no end.

And it pained him too. It pained all of them.

Every day that passed without word, Albus's smile grew a fraction more forced. Hermione's footsteps quickened just a tiny bit, and the dull, hidden knot in Draco's chest tightened ever so slightly with each heartbeat. And still nothing would happen. No James. No miracle.

This was reality.

Reality sucks sometimes, yanno? There's no knight in shining armour, no happily ever after. No convenient bed of flowers to break your fall when it's too overwhelming. No comfy little place of closure, shelter from your inner demons and fears. No perfection. It's just you, the world and silent eyes watching... _waiting_, for you to fall.

But he wasn't going to fall. Because Harry was the glaring exception. Harry was everything he could never be. Harry was his spot of closure, whether he knew that or not. Harry was his definition of perfection. Harry was his fairytale ending. His endless nights of insomnia and "what if"s.

Maybe if he'd just married her, things would have been a lot simpler. They'd have beautiful, well educated children, a full life and maybe they'd grow old together. Not his fairytale ending, but this was reality. He'd taken a bet- and he'd taken the risk. And he'd found out that he did miss her. She had never taken Harry's place, but she'd been a good companion. He regretted leading her on, but for a while even he had believed that she would be his future. She was the perfect wife, what more could one ask for?

But still, she wasn't the one. And maybe she had known. Maybe she had, by the way he had to make his eyes close whenever their lips touched, the way he never shivered when she said his name. The many secrets he held from her, the murmurs that wouldn't be for her when they lay together. And they'd never... _done it_. He'd always refused. He couldn't possibly look into her eyes and pretend to see his. He could never love her more than a brother loved a sister, and he knew it.

The biting wind blew past again, and Draco started, realizing that he was no longer alone. Hermione was there, and the grounds were, too, no longer empty. She raised a weary eyebrow at him, still holding her textbooks from the last lesson. They had started a reluctant truce, and were currently in the awkward definitely- not- friends- but- still- more- than- allies- sigh- can- I- just- not- explain- it's- annoyingly- complicated stage. And Draco found that he truly didn't mind. There was still the odd insult once in a while, but the edge was gone and neither could quite find the heart to put it back.

"Draco,"

"Weasley,"

"What are you doing up here alone? It's kinda cold if you didn't notice.."

"I know. I was bored. You?"

"I.. uh.."

Draco gave her a small smile and cocked his chin.

"I..." A sigh. "I missed Harry."

"Oh."

"We used to come here often." A pause. "_Well..._ I preferred the library and Ron his bed, but Harry loved it here. He loved the seclusion and the view. 'Said it helped him think... But you still haven't answered the question. Whatcha doing here?"

"I stumbled on this place today."

"Oh.. nice isn't it?"

"Yeah..."

He didn't say that "No, it's not just nice.. It's stunning." He didn't say that, because the silence was too beautiful, and another word would shatter its tranquil fragility into a million pieces, dulling its brilliance.

Instead, they both stood there, neither saying anything, Hermione shooting knowing glances at him now and again, and Draco pretending not to notice.

But inside, some part of him was longing to speak, to cut through the dainty silence and ask Hermione more about Harry. What was his favourite colour? What music did he like? How was he like when it was just the three of them, no curious glances, no hostile remarks? But he clenched his jaw and said nothing. He didn't want to know from a second source. He wanted Harry to be the one to tell him. A stupid thought, he knew. But Draco Malfoy was a stupid man, and nothing he ever did was going to fix that. No amount of regret would earn him a chance at redemption.

Finally Hermione's soft voice broke the atmosphere.

"So.. are you bored here?"

"Me? No.. no I'm not."

_A look._

"Okay... okay I am." He sighed.

"I've heard there are some.. or there are going to be some teaching or assisting positions free.. Are you interested?"

"Huh??" Okay..._ that_ was unexpected.

"C'mon, Malfoy.. We all know you were amongst the top in grades every year."

"Yeah righto." He rolled his eyes.

"It would give you something to do- take your mind off things, you know.. and it would save Dumbledore the trouble of finding another teacher,"

"You really think I'm up to it?"

"Well duh.. do you think I'd be asking you about it if I didn't?"

* * *

And that was how Draco Malfoy came to be Snape's potions assistant. He had refused being a teacher, what with no experience and all. Severus was highly amused, to say the least. The students groaned in unity at having to look at yet another evil face during classes.

Dumbledore claimed the school hadn't been so united since... well he couldn't remember.

Draco rolled his eyes in frustration. The children were. Impossible. Snape simply smirked and told him they had been worse. Well. At least there weren't any Longbottom clones around. _That_ would have been one of the few things that made him suicidal.

And the overload of work that Sev piled him while lounging around smirking and sipping coffee did get his mind off things. He welcomed the distraction. It gagged the annoying little voice of worry at the back of his head and cleared his mind. He decided he had to thank Weasley for this.

There was still the occasional letter to her, and she told him about snippets of life outside and in the Manor.

Whereas there was no word from James and Harry, there was no word from Narcissa either. All the better, he thought. It wasn't like she had ever cared. She didn't help Lucius with his dirty work, but she'd never spoken a word in his defence either. She just didn't care.

* * *

And at last, after 41 (yes, they all had been counting) days of unbearable waiting, James appeared in the fire in Dumbledore's office.

Draco and Hermione were immediately summoned, both flushed, dropping books and quills in their haste to get there. An annoyed Snape had to hunt everywhere for someone to substitute Hermione before returning to his restless class, which was gossiping about a wide eyed professor Malfoy rushing out of the classroom at lightning speed, leaving behind a half- brewed cauldron of potion that had almost exploded onto a disgruntled professor Snape.

Upon arriving at the headmaster's office (at the same time), Draco and Hermione exploded in, kicking up a storm and almost knocking things over.

"HEADMASTER! You called?"

Albus was very much torn between going straight to serious business and laughing at their promptness and unity.

Draco and Hermione neglected to tell him he looked constipated instead.

But he never got to speak up.. because that was when they noticed James's head bobbing in the fire.

"JAMES!"

They were starting to speak in unity even more perfected than the Weasley twins. Draco briefly wondered when the three... or four of them, including Sev.. would start completing each others' sentences.

"Erm.. hi?

"Is everything okay James??"

"Oh my god James!"

"Is Harry alright?"

"Did anything happen?"

"Oh, James!"

"How have you been James?"

"You sure things are fine?"

"We missed you, James!"

"..."

"Are you okay James?"

"Hermione, Draco! Please!"

They both closed their mouths abruptly and looked at Dumbledore.

"Let the poor boy speak,"

Blushing furiously, they turned back to a bemused James.

"I'm fine, Harry's fine... for the meantime anyway... and everything's okay."

Draco raised an eyebrow.

"Well... as okay as this gets."

A moment of grim silence.

"Albus... I was wondering if I could have a moment with Draco."

"Sure, go ahead,"

And with that, a midnight blue curtain with silver patterns appeared out of mid- air, creating a wall between them. Draco poked his head out of an opening to check that it was sound- proof.

"Isn't that pretty? It's one of my favourite prints,"

Draco gave an exasperated sigh and ducked back inside. James looked at him patiently.

"Yeah?"

"I... I need you to come with me. Harry..."

"But you said he was okay!"

"He _is_ okay. There are just.. certain complications. He... I think I'd better just let you see for yourself."

Draco nodded, and before he knew it.. he was back in the room with the four- poster and the gold tapestry. Except that this time, Harry wasn't there.

"Wh..."

James nodded and motioned for Draco to follow him. They crossed the small room, and passed through a dark, wooden and polished doorway and into a silent corridor. Walking behind him, Draco had to marvel again at James's small stature.

"James?"

"Hm?"

"How old are you?"

James paused, and turning around, sent him a staggeringly sweet smile.

"I'm turning five in December. December 31,"

Five... and Harry was two months older than he was. So he'd been 19 when James had been born. 18 when James had been conceived. He brushed away, again, _the_ obvious question.

And it turned out that they had come to a stop without him noticing. He sighed. He really had to refrain from getting spaced so often.

James was looking at him with a strange expression, his small, delicate lips slightly downturned, beautiful emerald eyes wide. But then he shook his messy head, turned the intricate brass knob in front of him and pushed. And whatever thought or question that Draco had been wanting to ask about James's expression died on the tip of his tongue.

Because the most beautiful thing he had ever seen was standing right in front of him.

"...Harry.." he was breathless from excitement. Well sure, he'd known he was going to see him, but the shock of actually seeing Harry in person was overwhelming. And he couldn't help the butterflies in his stomach when he saw that, for the first time, there was no hostility or annoyance in his eyes as he regarded him.

There was only relief, confusion and... curiosity?

But Draco's happiness was short- lived, for the next moment...

"...Who are you?"

* * *

A/N: Okay this is getting a little cliche. I'll try to make up for it in the next chapter :) I've already written most of it, and it used to be in this chapter, but I just thought I'd cut it off and leave it for the next. Yawns okay I'm getting incoherent. Night y'all :)


	7. Perfect Stranger

**Title:** Burn

**Author:** xxForgotten

**Pairing(s): **HP/DM

**Setting:** Post-war, magical community. Generally ignores OoTP and all those onwards, but may contain mentioning:)

**Warning(s): **Slash. Also may contain spoilers.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything that you might recognize... especially the characters:( but I'd be ever so happy if someone gave them to me as a birthday present:)

**Summary:** Years after the war... fire meets ice. But will it finally melt this time?

A/N: Sorry for the wait guys I'm been unbelievably busy. Anyway. No feedback. Hmm. Guess I'll just have to do it my way then! :) Anyway here's chapter 7.

Chapter 7: Perfect Stranger

* * *

Harry's POV

The man before me looked oddly familiar. I know I've seen that face before, but where? Some part of me is telling me that this can't be good, but I'm curious to know more.

I ask him who he is, but I regret it almost instantly.

He turns pale- a ghastly shade of whitish coloring, as he is already naturally pale as he is, and his eyes lose focus. I panick; what did I do to trigger this? Am I supposed to know this man?

My arms reach out on their own accord to catch him, just before he passes out, crumpling to the floor like a ragged doll. I lift him up, to find my own legs shaking. I'm unsure of what to do, but I carry him over to a nearby bed anyway. He's unnaturally light, and I find myself worrying for this stranger, whoever he is. I don't know a single detail about him. What's his name? Does he have a family? How did he end up here?

I lay him down on the bed, and a silver glint catches my attention. I look closer, and there's a small, ornate dragon hanging from a chain on his neck, rising and falling softly with his shallow breathing.

He's very pale. Very pale indeed. I can see that he's wearing a glamour; and for good reason. I know I haven't exactly been in my best shape either, but he looks like he's from the living dead. There are dark shadows under his eyes, his hair is limp, his cheeks are hollowed, and he's painfully thin, but those aren't what struck me the most. It was his eyes. I've never seen eyes like those... they were so pained, so _haunted_.

I've been able to see through small charms like glamours ever since the war. I've been told it's something to do with Voldemort's link to me, but I haven't found anything from all the research I've done on it.

Just then James walks in, his small lips downturned in worry. I wonder if I looked like that when I was younger.

"You really don't remember him, do you?"

"..No,"

And he looks at me, with a strange yet sad expression far too old for his age. Then he sighs and averts his gaze.

I follow his train of sight and we just stand there, father and son, looking at the mysterious stranger.

You know, I sometimes wonder if James is really mine. He's so mature, so perceptive, so rational, so not me. But still, I'm unbelievably blessed to have him.

You know, when I was younger, I never dreamed of having a child at 18. I had my own fair share of daydreams, imaginary tomorrows and fantasies, sure, but I'd never thought about having children, let alone such a beautiful child at such a young age. But then there was James, and everything suddenly didn't matter anymore. It doesn't matter that we're different from every other pair of fathers and sons out there. It doesn't.

But it does make me uncomfortable to know that I cannot do as much as I could for my son. I have no parental experience, unless you count sweeping up after the Dursleys, cooking breakfast and trying to be invisible to get out of the way.

I love James more than anything, more than life. I never thought it'd be possible to love someone so much before he came into my life, smiling. I'd do anything to protect him. All I want.. is to make him happy. I don't want him to live the life I had. I want him to grow up feeling loved, and knowing that he is loved, unlike me, who grew up trying to remember my parents and trying to remember how love felt. I don't want James to have to try. I want him to know.

Yet up till now, the title "Dad" still sounds funny to my ears. To me, "dad" is an organized person with a smile and a hug always ready, with a presence that warms the whole house. It's not a scrawny, geeky kid barely in his twenties.

Fate is funny sometimes.

I steal a glance at James, but I find him staring at me again. His expression is unreadable, and he's chewing on his bottom lip. The dying sunlight hits his face and his eyes- my eyes... _mom's eyes_- seem to be glowing. I'm trapped in wonder as I look into them.. and see myself in them.

He doesn't say anything, though, and I look away. Everything is silent, and the room is illuminated by the dying rays of sunshine outside. The light streams in from the huge window, casting shadows on my world. I like this time of the day. It's just so beautiful.. and yet so sad. I look out, and the world is on fire. The crimson clouds entrance me, and I watch as they burn.

And inside, some bruised part of me yearns to burn with them.

...

I never told anyone about what happened to me in those few hours before the war.

I didn't want to make things worse.

And I couldn't let it bother me either. Everywhere I looked, I saw tears of anger, fear and devastation. I knew I had to be strong; I knew I couldn't fall apart now.

I walked onto the battlefield, teeth gritted and fists clenched. I held onto my wand with a death grip and faced my destiny. Later, the healers would tell me that it had only lasted a mere forty-five minutes. But to me, it felt like forever. The blood.. all the blood. I could smell the blood, the blood from both the light and the dark. I can still feel it, tingling on my skin, mocking me, when I close my eyes.

I tried to ignore them, I really did. I tried blocking out the screams- the hideous screams from pain and the equally repulsive screams of triumph. It was as if I was in a trance; the images horrified and sickened me, but couldn't find it inside my heart to summon enough anger. I was just too tired of it all. I saw my friends falling, but my brain refused to register it. I tried telling myself it was only the crimson from the skies that stained the castle grounds. But I was weak, and even though I finished him after all in the end- he still had the last laugh. One last curse from his cold, sneering lips, and all that was left of Voldemort was the memory of a terrifying time- and a pile of ashes.

And I knew no more until I woke up twelve days later.

Killing him had drained me, and I_ felt _dead, even if I wasn't already. I was told that I had indeed almost died from exhaustion, and the impact of the curse Voldemort had thrown at me before he fell. Aurors had researched day and night on that last curse, but when everything had turned up empty, they gave up eventually, one by one. I seemed to be doing fine anyway. It was declared that Voldemort's mind had been shattered by then, and that the curse was harmless.

Over time, everyone forgot about the curse.

I buried the memories, and started anew with my life, eventually concentrating solely on raising James.

But somehow, this perfect stranger is making me question that verdict.

* * *

Draco awoke to a clear night sky and a pounding headache.

Jaw set, teeth gritted and eyes defiant, he pushed himself to a sitting position and made himself look up. If he could stand Voldemort, he could stand this, right?

"Hey,"

Draco sighed and looked up, straight into Harry's eyes. He'd never realized that they were this close. He let out a small squeak of surprise.

"..Hey,"

"You okay?"

"I guess..."

Harry looked away, both of them fidgeting in the uncomfortable silence. But then James walked over, and Draco lightened up.

"Draco! You're awake!"

"Yeah.. How long was I out?"

"Five hours,"

"Oh.. I should be getting back,"

He swung his legs off the comfortable warmth of the bed and slipped his shoes on, before standing up, finding with a jolt of smug surprise, amidst his aching, that he was only an inch or two shorter than Harry, who'd always seemed miles taller than he would ever be, with his tall stature and slightly muscular build, as opposed to Draco's smaller one.

Blinking, he suppressed a small smile and followed James, who nodded slightly in understanding, out of the room. Some little part of him ached to turn back and fall into Harry's arms, but he only rolled his eyes at himself and ignored it, smothering it like the way a person might throw a pillow at a particularly annoying alarm clock.

James came to a stop, and Draco found that they were in the small bedroom again. He grabbed a fistful of floo powder from the container above the fireplace and stepped in.

The last thing he saw before the green flames blinded him was Harry, with a hand on James' shoulder, James leaning into the reassuring warmth. Both of them were smiling.

* * *

Later that night, Draco and Severus sat together in the potions master's office. Snape graded his students' papers, as Draco sat watching the crackling fire. The flames licked against the walls of the fireplace, wisps of smoke curling and twisting before vanishing altogether. They sat in silence, Severus letting out the occasional sigh as he went through a particularly frustrating pupil's homework.

"My dear potions assistant, aren't you supposed to be helping me out with this?"

Draco said nothing.

"Draco..."

No response.

"Draco.."

Still no answer. Severus's tone started getting dangerous.

**"****DRACO!"**

Draco jumped and raised an annoyed eyebrow at his godfather.

"Yes?"

"There is a time and place for everything in this life. And this is neither the **time** nor the **place** to mope. Got that?"

Draco sighed and mock- sulked.

"Yessir,"

Severus sighed and put down his quill.

"I swear you're going to turn me soft someday,"

Draco smiled despite himself and Severus rolled his eyes.

"Care to tell me what's wrong?"

"It's Harry,"

"I gathered that much from your expression. I have known you for twenty years after all," Snape gave a slight grimace.

"He.. he doesn't remember me. He's fine and well, and as beautiful as the day I last saw him conscious, but he doesn't remember me. Merlin only knows what else he's missing," There. He'd said it and his voice hadn't broken once. He did the mental equivalent of clapping himself on the back.

Severus's eyes tightened a fraction, but his expression otherwise remained neutral.

"What does he remember?"

"I.. I'm not sure. We didn't talk much,"

A raised eyebrow.

"I.." A sigh. "I passed out," he admitted.

"For five whole hours?"

"...Yeah,"

Severus frowned and moved closer to Draco, placing a hand on his forehead.

"Are you hiding anything from me?"

"Me? Of course I'm not,"

Lifting Draco's head and turning it towards him lightly, Severus looked straight into Draco's troubled grey eyes. Draco bit his lip and tried to look away from his godfather's piercing gaze.

Another sigh, and Draco's posture crumpled, his glamour fading.

He averted his gaze, and even without looking, he knew that his godfather's shocked and angered eyes were wide, searching for the well- groomed godson that he knew in his face.

There was a sharp intake of breath from Severus, but Draco held up his hand. Casting the glamour on himself again, he stood up and turned for the door.

His godfather never said another word as he left silently, gaping in wordless shock.


	8. Vanish

**Title:** Burn

**Author:** xxForgotten

**Pairing(s): **HP/DM

**Setting:** Post-war, magical community. Generally ignores OoTP and all those onwards, but may contain mentioning:)

**Warning(s): **Slash. Also may contain spoilers.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything that you might recognize... especially the characters. But I'd be ever so happy if someone gave them to me as a birthday present:)

**Summary:** Years after the war... fire meets ice. But will it finally melt this time?

A/N: Yep I'm not dead:) R&R!

Chapter 8: Vanish

Two weeks later

Harry's POV

_And I watched, motionless, as he disappeared into the night._

That's when I woke up, drenched in my own sweat. I don't know who he is, or what that was all about. But ever since I met the stranger, there's been something different about me. I think James feels it too. It's like a weight's been lifted off my shoulders, one that I never even knew was there.

I wish James would stop being so secretive and just tell me who he is already, though, but he's still insisting on letting the stranger tell me himself. I've gone out of my way to find out who he is, but all I have is a silver D. Not exactly much to go on with. I think I recall James calling him by his name, but I'm not sure. I can't remember. I know that it was no ordinary name, not like Harry, or David, or something like that. It was special, and beautiful in its own unique ways.

Sometimes these days, I wake up and wonder if I'm going to hear from him. I look out from the window in my bedroom and wonder, briefly, if he's staring at the same sky in the same way. Then I catch a glimpse of James, peeking in from the door, and I can't help it- I smile. He grins back, and it's the start of a new day.

I've been spending more time with James, and Hermione's announced me well enough to go out. I haven't been in contact with her for the past few years; I just received a letter from her. It was short, polite, but painfully impersonal. I wonder how she's been, how Ron's been. I haven't been in touch with basically everyone since the war.

I guess it's time to start all over again.

* * *

Draco's POV

"Why do you have to keep doing this to yourself?"

_Because I owe him too fucking much, more than I could ever return. Because of the damned butterflies that start fluttering in my stomach every time I see him. And because I love him.  
_

"Because I want to,"

It's taken me years to realize it, but I really do. I do love him, with every fiber of my soul. And all I want to do is to make it up to him.

_Whatever it takes_.

I don't know when I woke up one day, stared into a bathroom mirror and realized it. I don't know which day it was when I got out of bed, dressed, and decided it was my destiny to love him. It doesn't really matter, after all. All that matters, in the end, is just the fact that I do. I'm probably a little too late, but I don't really care.

"Just because,"

Hermione looked at me with her sad, brown eyes, and I stared back.

"Oh, Draco."

She looks away, and I do, too. Her unspoken suggestion to_ let go_ hangs in the air, which is suddenly too thick to breathe in. She knows. She knows how much it's taken me to come to the realization, and how much more it will take for me to walk away.

* * *

A dot on the horizon.

That's all she was, and no more. A tiny figure with her back to the many pieces of the world, trying to put together some puzzle pieces of her own. She knew very well what Draco was troubling about, what made him desert the manor for weeks at a time. And now, with a little leather bound book in her trembling hands, she awaited the confirmation of her worst fears.

At the same time, in a different place, another figure stared at the rising sun, at the brightening world, at the start of a new day woven with more lies. Soon, it would be morning. Soon, he would have to make a decision that would haunt him for the rest of his natural life, a decision that he would regret for just as long.

Then another figure stepped out of the shadows, smiling. He smiled back, and turned away.

* * *

Harry was looking out of the window, staring at the birds flying away in the distance when there was a slight knock on the door. He turned, and the stranger smiled at him.

"James let me in."

"..Oh,"

Draco sighed and walked over.

"You really don't remember me, do you?"

Harry shook his head.

"I'm not even sure I want you to,"

Harry stared.

"... Why wouldn't you?"

"I... never mind. I brought you a visitor," And with that, a whirlwind of bushy brown hair and tears came rushing into the room, instantly wrapping its arms around Harry.

"Hermione?"

She sniffed loudly. "Harry!"

"Oh, 'Mione."

Harry grinned and disentangled himself from his long time friend. But when he looked up, all that was left of the stranger was a single sheet of paper fluttering softly on the floor.

"Harry, I've missed you so much!"

He turned his gaze back to his friend. "Me too, 'Mione. How's Ron?"

.........

Harry's POV

Hours after Hermione had left, I picked up the little sheet of paper, worn at the edges as if someone had read it through and through again. It was a letter. A letter containing all of the answers I had been searching for, written in elegant, neat handwriting. And at the bottom, there were two words that caught my attention. One was farewell, and the other was Draco. Draco. The name I had heard James call on the night when I first met him. The one that I had spent days trying to remember. I read it over again, then a third and fourth time, and a fifth, a sixth, even when the sun had disappeared behind the mountains. There were three emotions that ran through me- initial shock, fury, then, finally, as the last words settled in my mind, despair.

He was Draco Malfoy. He was the person that hated me with a passion in Hogwarts, did everything he could to make my life living hell, the person whose gestures I returned with just as fiercely.

I don't know what he wanted, or what happened to change his mind. But the letter that was supposed to answer all of my questions, has just made way for more. I'm not sure I believe in his excuse that he just wanted to make peace, that he regretted his immaturity back then. That may have been true to a certain degree, but I'm pretty sure I saw something else in his eyes. Something more, something that he's hiding.

In my dream, I watched as he walked away. But this time, I didn't even see him leave.

........

Draco's POV

I did what Hermione wanted me to. I let go. I did the right thing. You know, sometimes, it seems that right is only relative. But in that instant, Harry looked so happy, embracing Hermione, that I knew that it was the right thing, and the only thing to do.

There is no doubt that I love him. I always will. But the more that I do, the more that I know that this is better for him, for James, for me. a letter is all that I left, in hopes that he wouldn't forget me. His impression of me that remains in his mind doesn't matter. Because knowing that I am a part, no matter how small, of his memory, makes me believe that for the tiniest fraction of a second, I can breathe again.

I do realize that I sound silly, and if you told the Draco Malfoy ten years ago that I would be head over heels with another person, he would probably have laughed, thrown a curse, and told you to "Oh, go to hell." But I am hardly the little death eater's son I was then, a character which no longer exists.

Maybe this is an ending, my very own bittersweet ending. Who knows?

* * *

I'm on fire  
When you're near me  
I'm on fire  
When you speak  
And I'm on fire  
Burning at these mysteries...

A/N: I know, I know, short chapter. The next one won't take me so long, I've just been kinda busy these days. And no, this isn't the end- more coming soon! Lyrics are from Switchfoot's "On Fire", one of my favs :)


	9. Goodnight

**Title:** Burn

**Author:** xxForgotten

**Pairing(s): **HP/DM, slight RW/HG

**Setting:** Post-war, magical community. Generally ignores OoTP and all those onwards:)

**Warning(s): **Slash. Also may contain spoilers.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything that you might recognize... especially the characters:( but I'd be ever so happy if someone gave them to me as a birthday present:)

**Summary:** Years after the war... fire meets ice. But will it finally melt this time?

A/N: Heh sorry about the late update. Review review :)

Chapter 9: Goodnight

Harry

I've been fine. I guess you could say that about the past few months. That's what I would say about them. I woke up, got dressed, showered, went on with my daily routines, had supper, tucked James in, went to bed.

I was fine, all until that night.

That night, I didn't cook. I went out to get us both some takeaways, as I thought that James would be sick of my god- awful cooking by then. Well, I was. So I went out. But even when I was nearing my block, I knew something was off. I don't know what. Hermione's questioned me for more times than I can remember, but I just don't know what it was. A gut feeling? A hunch?

Yes, I know that it would be hugely useful. Criminal investigation, right? Thing is... when I stepped into the house, James was missing.

My mind's just about blanked out from then till now. They've got numerous aurors on the case. I guess I should feel reassured. They are the best, after all. But it's almost been a week, and all they've found is a very distraught 'Mione, and, well, me. Little ol' me.

It all seems so surreal, you know? One moment he's here, all smiles and nonstop chattering, and the next moment there are teary friends, questions, scattered clothes, and numerous aurors in his place. I feel like some part of me is missing. But somehow the sun just keeps on shining, and the sky seems impossibly bluer than ever.

If this is some kind of cruel joke, it isn't funny.

"Harry, do you think it might be Vol..."

"He's dead, Hermione. I double checked."

"I know, but James..."

"He wouldn't."

Hermione looked at me, brown eyes wide and wet, and I almost smiled. The expression was so familiar. She's been using it to get Ron and I to do stuff since I can remember. One look from those pleading eyes, and she would have us in her grip. Merlin, I miss those years.

* * *

Hermione

He's changed so much. He's never been anything like a typical teenager, and well... he's never followed any of the rules meant for them either, but there's always been something boyishly innocent about him. The way he talked, smiled, trusted people in the blink of an eye.

He's sitting on his bed, in front of the fire, head buried in his hands. I want to go over, hug him, talk to him, tell him that everything's going to be okay like it always is, but something about him is holding me back. Like it's telling me I'm just going to be lying to him, lying to myself. Truth is- I don't know where James is. The rest of the aurors have no idea either. We don't know if he's still breathing, let alone if he's okay. And right now, with a distraught Harry and a bunch of clueless aurors in the house, the atmosphere is strangely suffocating.

* * *

If anyone had paid a little more attention, they might have noticed a miniature, golden device floating silently next to Harry's bed. On its surface were 6 apparently random numbers, and to anyone else, it might have appeared to be a clock of sorts. But its numbers went in reverse, and it _would_ have been useless as one.

Harry turned onto his side and fingered it quietly, tracing the delicate numbers and turning it softly this way and that. The last two digits flipped back.. once, twice.

49... 48... 47... 46...

Harry sighed and let go, not daring to close his eyes, because then all he'd be able to see would be James, aged 2, grinning, wide-eyed, at a passing insect on the pavement. James, aged 3, sleeping soundly with the tiniest string of drool coming out from his cherry red, parted lips. James, aged 1 and a half, furrowing his brows, pretending to read and failing horribly because of the book's upside down state. James, James, James.

James had been occupying every corner of his brain for the past week. Everywhere he turned, whenever he spotted a dark haired boy downstairs from the window, he saw James.

The aurors were doing everything they could, he knew that. But seeing Hermione pacing around wringing her hands wasn't doing a lot for his fragile mental state. Ever so often she would do jump ever so slightly, go out of the room, and come back, face flushed and with hope shining in her desperate brown eyes. Her leads always turned up empty. And Harry watched as the light in her eyes slowly dimmed, even after one of her little starts.

Right now, he just wanted some peace. He wanted James to stay safe, and to be safe in his arms. But all evidence the aurors found pointed to the same conclusion: That James had just disappeared into thin air, and no one seemed to know where he had gone. There were simply no signs. Of anything.

* * *

Harry

I remember thinking that I could do with a good wash, if only to cleanse my mind of unwanted suspicions and worries. I was just making my way out, when I heard familiar voices from the other side of the door. Two familiar voices, to be exact. A male's and a female's. And it all came rushing back.

Malfoy. Hermione. The letter. Farewell.

I didn't even think. I pushed the door open and rushed into the cold. They turned instantly, shocked, wands outstretched and pointed towards me.

"Harry! What.. what are you doing here?"

I ignored her.

He was standing right there in front of me, eyes widened in.. fear? Shock?

"..Harry?"

Hermione's expression was one of concern now.

"Draco and I... we were just sharing what we had found about James. He's helping us too, you know.."

So he was her secret informant, her little starts and abrupt departures. To think I had thought for a brief second that it had been Ron. But then something registered in what was left of my rat's nest of a brain.

"Draco?"

"Yeah... what's wrong?" She peered at me curiously.

"Since when did he become Draco?"

Okay, so I might have been a little blunt. He'd been avoiding my gaze already, but as soon as the words left my mouth, he looked as if he'd been punched. Hard.

"Harry!"

"What?" I stared long and hard at them. "I've been missing everything about this person who everyone says I've known and hated for seven whole years, and my son just disappeared! Do you expect me to smile and ask him to sit down for a cup of tea?"

"He was just trying to help, Harry..."

I sighed.

"..I know. I'm.. sorry, I don't know what got into me. Just.. please come in,"

Both of them visibly relaxed as I held the door open. I was just about to close it when I caught them. The first words he had said to me since I had rushed out.

_Thank you, Harry._

I could have cried.

* * *

The time passed, and the sun set slowly once again, just like the day before, and the day before that. The crowd of aurors dispersed slowly, some of them going out on more futile searches, some of them retiring for the day and going back to their families, some going home for hours of long- needed sleep. Some still lingered about, brows knitted together, deep in thought.

Harry's countdown clock read 010443.

One day, four hours and forty-three seconds. All that was left until they were duty- bound to give everything up, James or no James. It had been, by now, fifty-nine days since James had vanished, and the ministry's official time limit for investigations was sixty days, max. It might seem heartless, but disappearances in the magical community were just a little too common. Some people returned of their own accord, some turned up dead, and some were just never seen again. Harry knew they couldn't be held for the blame, but he just couldn't help the tiny, burning flame of annoyance that had just sparked up inside him.

Draco and Hermione sat on nearby couches, going through the almost nonexistent evidence for what seemed like the millionth time... and finding virtually nothing. She eventually fell asleep on a plastic folder as the night progressed, expression painted with worry. He just went on, eyes blazing with tired determination.

Harry watched, jaded, from a corner, brooding over his lost son, and the flame grew.

It grew, from a tiny spark of frustration to a dull, fiery ache, to a bonfire of emotions. And he found that he just couldn't take it anymore.

His countdown clock read 010000.

And Draco chose that exact little moment to walk over.

"...Harry?"

* * *

Draco

He just grabbed me, out of nowhere. I didn't fight; I knew that I could never win, even if he used only half of his strength. I looked up in shock, and the thing that shook me the most was his eyes. Emerald flames replaced them, and they burned. I felt them, even when I closed mine. I felt them burning a hole into me. They were so wild, so uncontrolled, so un- Harry. This person holding me with a grip like steel was no Harry. One look told me that much.

But even so, they were beautiful. And I found myself mesmerized, stunned into paralyzed silence.

That's when he kissed me.

I didn't- _couldn't_ move. His lips crashed onto mine, hard, unforgiving. They meant to hurt, to bruise. And I let them. There wasn't anything else I could do. He tasted of mint and melted chocolate.

This wasn't Harry, it didn't matter. This was nobody.

I felt his tongue prodding at my teeth, and I parted them slowly. This wasn't Harry, right? It didn't matter.

...Did it?

I don't know how much time passed with me standing there, unmoving, with my eyes tightly shut. It wasn't until I tasted salt and the rusty tang of blood when I opened them.

And found him, face only inches away from mine, staring at me.

He gently removed his lips from mine, and they were red from blood. If it was mine or not, I don't know. I felt the weight of his stare burning into me, and I looked up to meet his eyes. The utter shame of what had happened didn't hit me like I'd expected. His gaze was merely confused. Curious.

I closed my eyes again, in the hopes that I could somehow disappear into the silence and the darkness of the night.

...Is it such a surprise that I failed, really? All I could smell, all I could feel, all I could see was emerald. Just when I was about to drown in a pool of melted, minty chocolate, his voice brought me back to earth.

"..Draco?"

I knew, without opening my eyes, that normal-Harry was back.

"Draco, look at me."

...Or maybe not.

"I.. I want to see you."

And all I wanted was a hole for me to crawl into.

"...Please?"

I sighed, and opened my eyes.

He raised a finger, and stroked my cheekbone, my lips. It was brilliant ruby when it came away. Then he repeated his request, more demandingly this time.

"Please?"

Something inside me told me that what he wanted wasn't just me standing there in front of him like an idiot, bleeding, weak, and for the first time, at a loss for words. But he just looked so hurt, so desperate, that I had to. And I did.

I, against my better judgment, did something that I had only done once in front of my godfather, and had since sworn never to do again. I closed my eyes and let the glamour that I had been hiding behind for a year and a half fall.

* * *

Hermione

I woke to the labored sounds of heavy breathing. But before I could get my facts straight about what had happened, I saw him.

He looked exactly like a Draco Malfoy that I knew, with the same delicate features, striking eyes, and heart-stopping airs. But the only difference was that his face was completely devoid of colour, with the exception of his lips, which were bright crimson, for reasons unknown to me. His eyes were sunken, but just as bright, if not even more, than ever. His cheeks were hollowed, his cheekbones heightened.

"What?"

I almost jumped, before I noticed Harry. Uh-oh.

"...I always knew. But.. but why..?"

Oh, Harry. I could almost see the answer written out in Draco's eyes. But he bit his already mangled lower lip and said nothing, ignoring the blatant _you_ hanging in the air.

I don't know what had happened, but what I could see was that Harry had gotten to know that Draco was wearing a permanent glamour charm, and as the completely oblivious person that he is, had forced Draco to take it off.

They apparently didn't know I was watching, so I closed my eyes, pretended to be asleep, and listened. It shames me, you know, that my friend had been wearing a glamour all the time around me, and that I hadn't suspected a thing. It makes me question myself. How good of a friend am I, really?

If Harry and Draco are of any proof at all, the answer's probably not one I'm willing to hear.

Oh, if only Ron were here. He'd know what to do. He understands Harry miles better than I ever could. But what can I say? He's in Romania with his family.

There was a long period of silence. A sigh and a sniff. Then:

"It's getting late,"

"I know,"

"We'll find James, you know."

"I know,"

Another sigh.

Then there was the shuffling of feet, a brief ripple of magic which had to be Draco putting on his glamour again, the sigh of a couch as someone lay down on it.

"Goodnight, Harry."

"Goodnight, Draco."

* * *

A/N: I'm really sorry about the double post, but I found a plothole upon skimming through the story again as a whole. Anyways, hope you like :)


End file.
